Apocalypse Arrives

[hazlogs]

It is currently 18:05 Pacific Time on Sun Jun 16 2002.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (42% full).

[Apocalypse]

She looks disreputable. She looks like trouble. She looks like five-foot-six of misspent youth and a hundred and twenty pounds of cheerful go-to-hell, the rebel bastard daughter of the late eighties and early nineties, all decked out in ripped, faded black denim.

Fair skin like a goth's fondest dream is unmarked by scars, blemishes, or visible tattoos, but make no mistake; she ain't pretty. Her nose is too beakish, bony and protruding, and overlarge ears stick out like jug handles on either side of her head. Her platinum-blonde hair is cropped messily short, just curly enough so that tufts of it stick up every which way. Three rings pierce her left ear, four dangle from her right, and two more adorn her left eyebrow. She's got the flat, willowy build of a supermodel, but slouches with all of a slacker's carelessness, and there's something vaguely manic about those odd blue-lilac eyes.

Along with the faded black jeans and jacket, she wears an old gray t-shirt with the neck ripped off and a faded GWAR logo on the front. Her sneakers are bright orange Chuck Taylors, canvas high-tops which are already showing signs of wear. Hanging around her neck is a pair of little round welder's goggles, the lenses a radioactive shade of bright green.


Rain patters over the concrete, filling the fountain, and soaking into the grass. The lumpy form of a man is flat on a park bench, soggy newspapers and drippy plastic over him.

Apocalypse saunters through the wet grass, shoulders slouched and gait easy. She's been walking in the rain for a while, to judge by the wet clothes and the drenched hair plastered to her skull. Her head turns to regard the river as she strolls, thumbs hooked in the front pockets of her soggy jeans and lips moving almost soundlessly.

Carter sits indian style in a position to watch the raindrops hit the water of the river. His eyes dart to and fro, as if tracking he ripples and splashes of as many drops as possible. He doesn't blink for long periods of time, and somehow, he isn't as wet as the pavement around him.

Carter isn't tall, at just under 5'6", a fact magnified by his slouching posture. His build is gangly and wiry, seeming too small for the clothes he's inhabiting. He has brown eyes, with gold flecks radiating around the pupils, which focus like lasers on whatever he's looking at. His hair is curly and dark, and totally disheveled, as though it was the absolute last thing he thought about when he got up this morning.

He seems constantly distracted, shifting between distant, thinking about things that aren't even here, and hyper-aware, lost in the background noise of his environment.

Carter is wearing a grey pinstripe oxford-cloth shirt, unbuttoned, and a threadbare black sports jacket. His jeans are indifferently clean, white at the knees but not worn through. The shoes are ankle high Docs, one of which is untied.

[Reggie]
Stocky and large, this man dominates his physical space, belt disappearing under the overflowing flesh of his belly. The wear and tear of his flesh, giving away to gravity, declare an early start to mid-age. A flattened nose, long ago healed from a break, sets the theme of his square, broad face. His hygiene is lax, with stubble bristling on his chin and evident body odour, reeking of stale smoke, grease, and gasoline fumes to those sensitive of nose. His calloused fingers will nails broken down to the quick show little fear of manual labour. A tattoo on his arm reads 'The 1%'.

He is clothed in a flea-bitten grey fur jacket evidently made with a beginner's attempt at tanning. The fur shows the faint agouti markings of the canine it came from.

The newspapers shuffle, some of them sliding off onto the ground, as the slumbering man searches to scratch a persistant itch, but he can't quite reach it.

Apocalypse spares the man sleeping on the bench hardly a glance, but the fellow studying the rain-dimpled river catches her interest. With hardly a pause, she slouches over in his direction, head snapping to the side to flick pale wet hair out of her eyes. She stops muttering or singing under her breath, and thin lips curve into the crooked beginnings of a grin.

No one should be able to sit so still. He doesn't rock back and forth, his chest barely moves with his breath, and if it weren't for the color and texture of his skin he might be a bizarre statue new to the fountain. 'Man staring into space' or something. The scuff of Apocalyse's feet are drowned out by the rain, and Carter is turned mostly away from the girl. Surprising him would be all too easy.

Apocalypse brings herself to a half just behind Carter and for a moment or two just stands there, head cocked slightly to one side, bouncing loosely on the balls of her feet, that quirky grin still lingering on her face.

A raindrop collects on Reggie's brow, trembles as it fakes going left, then right, then drips right down into an eye beginning to blink away sleep, and the man jerks upwards, scattering debris, blinking out the rain.

As abrupt as a sneeze, Apocalypse steps back and does a perfect military turn -- perfect except for the consistant careless slump of her shoulders. She wanders over toward the fountain now.

Reggie struggles back upright, brushing wet papers off him, and rubbing rumbled hair back flat, as he looks blearily around him, barely able to recognie any moving forms as human.

Apocalypse waves toward the waking bum; her path is angling her in his direction. "Yo, sunshine. Time ta wake up, it's almost fuckin' sunset." Her accent's all Big Apple, or maybe Long Island or New Jersey; in any case, she wouldn't sound out of place on the set of the Sopranos.

Reggie's head turns in the direction of the voice, and his eyes continue to blink as he attempts to place her in his memory, and fails. He begins to say something, then adruptedly, with much disgust, spits out a birch leaf.

Apocalypse saunters right up to Reggie's bench and leans against it, one hand propped against the back. The other hand remains hooked into her pocket. Her grin widens, displaying even, white teeth. "Ya okay there, sunshine?"

Pinching the stem, Reggie turns the leaf over as he carefully inspects it, his attitude as if he's expecting to find revelation written in its crinkled veins, then hands it over to the woman. "I searched, and this is what I found."

Apocalypse shifts her weight onto her own two feet and accepts the slimy gift, eyebrows rising. "Fuck," she says. "My condolences."

Reggie turns the palms of his hands upwards towards the drizzling sky, as if to say "But what can you do?"

Apocalypse holds the leaf by its stem between her index finger and thumb and fans the air with it a bit before flicking it off toward the fountain. It flutters down into the grass, well short. "So. Ya okay? 'Cause ya look fuckin' wasted, man."

Reggie stretches his arms above his head. "That's close to what I feel. This bench isn't anywhere comfy if you fall asleep waiting."

Apocalypse lifts brows, then leans against the back of the bench again. The other hand comes up to plaster her wet hair back along her head. "What th'fuck you waitin' for?"

Reggie continues stretching, cracking his knuckles. "Waiting for answers. And for people who keep wandering this park. You one of them?"

Apocalypse's mouth twists into a lopsided smirk. "Nah, I just fuckin' got here. Don't fuckin' think you could call that a fuckin' 'keep wanderin'. And it's fuckin' forty-two, don'cha read?"

Reggie's mouth forms an 'oh'. "So you're not one of them homeless got tossed out the last week." He frowns over the number, "No, I hate math. I always got my knuckles rapped for not having the right number of decimal places. It can't be a number."

Apocalypse shakes her head in a quick, jerking, brief negation, the cockeyed grin never wavering. "Okay, not a fuckin' number, then. So what's the fuckin' question?"

Reggie squints fericiously as he rubs his hair. "Give me a while. I had it all clear in my mind, before. I think I also had a few pints in my belly as well."

Wet hair has fallen back over Apoc's forehead; she pushes it away from her face again. "Ain't that jus' the fuckin' way?"

The heavy man works on reacquiring his legs, and looks like a sailor just come ashore from a long year at sea, but he manages to keep upright, and stamps a foot that seems to still be asleep. He starts on a short walk, arms swinging to get circulation back into his limbs.

Apocalypse makes a 'whoa' noise as Reggie sways, then pushes off from the bench herself, thumbs hooking into her beltloops as she slouches after him. "Easy, captain. Don't wanna fuckin' break ya neck or nothin'."

Reggie steps out of the glade and into the surrounding meadow.

Reggie has left.

You make your way into the surrounding meadow.

Harbor Park -- The Meadow(#194RJ)

One of the last bastions of green left in the city, mottled and withered grass and weeds covers the earth like a badly stained carpet, with the construction work turning what is left into just bare dirt. The vegetation seems marginally healthier the further it is from the river and much healthier towards the central area of the park around the fountain. Construction work is ongoing here: a raised earthen berm about five feet tall is being built all around the park perimeter, with two breaks each at the Bridge Street entrance and the First Street end. Wooden posts are being erected at regular intervals all along the earthen wall, while tasteful iron gates and fences are being added at the entrances. Overpowering the scent of living vegetation are the exhaust fumes from a busy street to the west and an unpleasant stench from the Columbia River to the east. From the street view or river view, the park is now isolated, as if it existed apart from the city. People in tall buildings have an excellent view of any goings-ons for now, though. In the center of the park, a small glade of six tall trees and a flower bed surrounds the fountain.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire.


Kaz continues playing, slightly meditatively, for a minute or two longer. She seems to be in the wrong mood for it, however, as she soon stops, and breaks the flute down rapidly.

Tobin eventually spots familiar faces and slows down a bit. Seeing unfamiliar faces, or face, near Sepdet, he elects to head towards the musical Gnawer. He gives a short bow to her when he approaches, but still says nothing. He directs his scowl towards the river.

Kaz nods slightly in his direction, and then blinks. "Who pissed in your corn flakes?"

The unsteady tread of Reggie crunches its way over the path, near the fountain. He stamps one particular foot harder than the other, shaking it, apparently trying to get pins and needles out of it.

Aubrey almost bursts out chuckling at Kaz's comment, but the young Fianna resorts at saying nothing at all. She looks to Tobin, lightly jabbing him with an elbow. Her hend then swings over her shoulder as she spots the slightly unknown Fianna and kin, and also Sepdet.

Apocalypse trails after Reggie, shadowlike, keeping one light-colored, amused eye on the heavyset man in the ugly coat. She walks with the laziest, most careless of slump-shouldered slouches, thumbs hooked into the belt-loops of her black jeans.

Seirian gives Alec a warm glance and calms a little at his presence, murmuring softly, "I do wonder sometimes." Licking her lips quickly, she half-closes her eyes and begins her retelling in a low voice devoid of accent, "Black and white, all of it, images void of color. I stood within that which was taken from us, but it was not as I had come to kno with. Everywhere I looked there was desecration, the beauty polluted and twisted into a cruel mockery of what once was. The sparkling water of the falls fell into a pool choked with the rotted remains of animals and foul wastes. Equally repugnant fumes rose from the vents where once clean steam had escaped into the air, and the swirling winds had died, offering no respite to the smell. The rock outcropping had been chipped away, covered in spraypaint and foul etchings, glyphs covering it claiming it for the Wyrm. A creature in native garb and warpaint lifted a can of motor oil over his head, pierced it with a talon, and poured the contents over the cracked boulder at the caern's heart. The blackness obscured my sight, and the vision ended." Shivering a little, she opens stormy eyes and reaches for Alec's hand to take further comfort from his presence. "The night I had that was the same night the earth moved, and the combination has left me reasonably unsettled in the days since."

Tobin oofs as he's elbowed, but can't quite bring himself to glare at the Fianna cub. Instead he sighs and answers Kaz. "Impatience, and the growing moon. Important things need doing..."

Kaz's attention is half drawn to Seirian, but then she merely grits her teeth and nods to Tobin. "No shit. What's up with you people, anyways?"

Sepdet's hands clench once. "Time grows short," she whispers, keeping her voice level with effort. "I must speak to Andrea. I know her pack tried to get Fog to safety that night."

Aubrey digs her hands into her pockets as she shifts on her feet. "Nothing," the girl mutters.

Seirian seems somewhat relieved at having said her peace to someone in the know and nods, unoccupied hand curling into a fist. "Anything I can do, I'll do it. I've lacked focus since Alec called me back from where I'd gone off to, and would welcome somewhere to put all of this energy."

Tobin gestures up at the sky as he responds to Kaz. "The moon is bright enough to light the Umbra. Three of the four I need to start the quest are gathered here. Perhaps tonight we'll try to get things moving." He lowers his hand and then looks at Kaz askance, a grin tugging at his mouth. "Unless, of course, you have to go wash your hair, or someting."

Sepdet tells Seirian, "Feed the spirits. Prepare for battle. We will take back the caern with their aid. And, Doctor..." she nods respectfully to him. "If you can help with giving newer cubs or... a father figure..." she smiles wryly... "It will give them support while their elders are distracted." She glances towards the new arrivals, measuring the strange face, and then looks at Tobin sharply.

Kaz flips her 'do. "Oh, yeah, really, I gotta go wash /alla/ me. I'm up for it, sure. Dependin' on if you tell me what this quest is. In detail."

Aubrey smiles slightly as she listens to Kaz and glances towards Sepdet as well. "It would be a start," she says hopefully.

Seirian nods succinctly and gives Alec's hand a squeeze, "Will do." Alec gets a wry smile as the Doctor loomingly nods and the pair move a little ways away to confer about something in whispers and gestures.

Reggie continues stamping feet, tolerating his trailer, and he notices a gathering of people further down the park. Venturing closer to find out who they are, he relaxes slightly as they include people he recognizes, and he waves a hand in greeting and to see who deigns to return it.

Apocalypse rakes fingers back through her wet hair and peers curiously at the natives. Then she cocks a glance over at Reggie, as companionable as if she'd known him for years rather than minutes. "Friends a' yours, sunshine?"

Kaz glances from Tobin to Reggie, and, while she doesn't seem particularly gleeful to see the man, she /does/ recognize him. "Yo, Reggie," she calls. "Ain't seen you in a coon's age."

Tobin takes a step closer to Kaz, his eyes beginning to light with enthusiasm as he gets to talk about his favorite subject. "We'd chosen for ourselves the task of finding one or more of the places where the refugee..." he breaks off as he spots unfamiliar people. He stares at Reggie, apparently unable to decide if he's met the man before or not.

Sepdet says vaguely, "You want to go for a walk, Tobin, Aubrey? I could come along, if you need an extra pair of eyes."

Reggie snaps his fingers, and rolls a shoulder at the woman trailing him. "I couldn't say that. They sure do like this place, though."

Aubrey nods to Sepdet and weakly shrugs her shoulders. "Sure, I'll come along." she answers the Stirder.

Apparently the discussion between Garou and Kin reaches some sort of end, as Seirian and Alec quietly excuse themselves from things and head out, occasionally bantering back and forth about lighter things as they go.

Apocalypse jerks her head in a nod. "Oh-yeah. One'a them, whaddya call 'em. Wanderin' people." Her New York accent's thick.

Kaz mutters, quite audibly, "/I/ ain't no wanderin' type."

Beautiful, this woman isn't. Most people wouldn't even call her interesting, although there is a spark of something, deep down in there. Even so, most people would call her homely, if they bothered to call her anything at all. She's about 5'6" tall, and burly. Not fat -- It's the kind of burly that's all muscle, just not well defined muscle.

Her hair is brown, distinctly curly, and in her eyes. Constantly. The part that's not in her eyes is about shoulder length. Her eyes are distinctly odd, although it's hard to tell, given how often she hides behind her hair. They're yellow, and look almost cat-like. The rest of her face isn't offensive, just boring. The nose is a bit big -- maybe it's been broken, or maybe she was just born that way. Her chin is broad, as are her cheekbones. Classic features for a man that don't at all work on her. There's a wry, cynical smile often playing about her lips that does nothing to add to her mostly non-existent charm. Makeup, it's clear, is of very little use to this person.

"Battered" would describe her choice of clothing quite well. Grey trenchcoat, tired blue jeans, an oxford shirt hanging open, with a t-shirt underneath. Her sneakers are black, and she often has a black hat jammed over her head.

Reggie heads over to the only one acknowledging his arrival, and butts into whatever conservation she was having with "Evenin'. Maybe you aren't wandering but this one was. Maybe you know each other?"

Tobin nods at Sepdet. "A walk would be very nice, yes. And perhaps," he says, glancing at Kaz now. "We could convince Kaz to wander with us. She remembers things so well and tells them again later in such interesting fashions." That ghost of a grin again haunts his lips.

Kaz looks the woman up and down. "Ain't never met her. Should I have?" She nods at Tobin, though. "Way."

"Hey," says Apocalypse, grinning easily. "I'm just fuckin' repeatin' what sunshine here was sayin'." She jerks a thumb over toward Reggie.

Kaz glances at Reggie, eyebrow raised.

Reggie raises his hands, "Hey. I'm just a beam of sunshine", he cracks his visage into a grin that a used car salesman would be proud of.

Kaz says, "Whatever. If you ain't family," she tells Apocalypse, rather more directly than usual, "I gotta go take a walk."

Apocalypse cocks a pierced eyebrow at that, but answers Kaz with a rolling shrug, the easy grin melting into something a little more mellow. The little manic gleam remains in her eyes, though.

Kaz evidently decides that's not enough of an answer. "Whatever," she tells the newcomer, and looks at Tobin. "So we bookin'?"

Sepdet looks the scruffy young lady over, but has a few other things to worry about. "Well, you got the grocery list, Tobes. And a few extra hands to carry the stuff. Let's get going."

Reggie gives a short nod at Kaz's reaction to the other woman, and looks more curiously at her. "SO, you're new--you got family in town or something ? Visiting great granny or attending a cousin's wedding?"

Tobin starts to turn away to go on his 'walk' but stops and looks back at Apocalypse. He catches her eyes and looks at her with his own eyes very wide. "Do I...do I know you?" he says curiously, brow furrowing. He shakes his head and not waiting for an answer, does turn and walk away, falling into step with Kaz and Sepdet.

Sharp, aquiline features dominate this pale young man's face, belying a pure blood-line many generations old. One day, he will be very handsome, but now it looks like all the pieces don't fit quite right together. This situation might be helped if he smiled more, but smiling doesn't seem to be something Tobin is much interested in. Lank, chin-length black hair frames clear blue eyes which are as sharp as the rest of his face. He looks to be about 16 or 17, and is not very tall at 5'5", though he may still add height as he gets older. However, his lack of height does little to dampen the presence he brings to a room. He has a wiry build, somewhat awkward but not without its grace. Sometimes he seems sure of himself and proud, carrying himself with a dignity not normally found in people his age. Other times, however, he is wary and seems suspicious.

He's dressed in an odd combination of fashion and utility. Starting with a dirty white button-down shirt and black slacks, over the shirt he's wearing a trendily cut black suit jacket that looks like it came from Hot Topic. Enveloping this ensemble is a black floor-length duster that must have been very nice once but is now scuffed and worn. Equally worn hiking boots adorn his feet. Occassionally glimpsed underneath the duster is a small, primitive-looking drum hanging from his left hip. He's often seen carrying a walking stick a little taller than he is. The top of the stick is wrapped with leather cord and has a variety of rocks, crystals, and feathers dangling from it on yet more leather cords.

Aubrey eyes the unfamiliar woman before she nods to Tobin. "I'm ready." she answers. The Fianna is to preoccupied to listen to anyone else as she darts after Sepdet.

Apocalypse gives Tobin a curious glance, then turns her eyes back to Reggie. "Nah, just seeing what the other fuckin' side of the country looks like." She grins. "Might go to fuckin' school here, but I dunno, I mean, too much fuckin' rain." She hardly sounds put-out, however, and it all has an undertone of cheerful bullshit. "Was supposed t'be crashin' at my cousin's floor or some shit, but when I called, she wasn't in, so..." The thin shoulders twitch into another shrug. "Decided t'see the fuckin' sights."

Kaz asks, "Cousin?" before she leaves entirely.

Apocalypse says, "Yeah. On my mother's side, or father's, ah, I forget fuckin' which."

Sepdet gives Reggie a surreptitious glance, nodding towards the stranger, as they head out.

Kaz says, again, "Whatever. I'll catch you around, I guess, if you'll be hangin' out'n these parts." Then she takes over after Sepdet.

Tobin makes his way towards the fountain in the center of the large, open meadow.
Tobin has left.

Sepdet makes her way towards the fountain in the center of the large, open meadow.
Sepdet has left.

Apocalypse unhooks a thumb and gives Kaz a wave. "Ciao."

Aubrey makes her way towards the fountain in the center of the large, open meadow.
Aubrey has left.

Reggie nods casually at Apocalypse, his hand massaging the back of his neck, and his eyebrows draw together. "This place's not much for the tourist. There's a river, I dunno, but I don't suggest fishing or swimming in it. There's that amusement park off Fosters, and they don't have lines when it's rainy, but they close at 6 Sundays."

Kaz makes her way towards the fountain in the center of the large, open meadow.
Kaz has left.

"Fuck that," says Apoc cheerfully. "Know any good bars? Or someplace with some fuckin' ear-bleedingly loud music?"

Reggie brightens slightly as that's something fonder to his heart, "Hey! My cousin just opened a place, named it Cubes. Grand opening was last night. She was going to hire a plane to fly a banner over the city, but it rained too much. My brother's also got this pool hall--no loud noise, but plenty of beer and cues and blue chalk."

"_Now_," says Apocalypse, with a grin fit to split her face, "you are talkin' my fuckin' language. Beer is _just_ the fuckin' thing I need."

Reggie begins to warm to this person. Who the heck cares who she is, she's got her priorities straight. "Let's head off there then. I need more beer, then I can work on remembering what my question was."

Apocalypse claps a hand against Reggie's back; the smell doesn't seem to bother her a bit. "Fuckin' A. Lead on, MacDuff."